Chu Qiao carried Little Seven back to the servants’ quarters, quickly entered the room, washed her wounds, applied medicine, and bandaged her. Yan Xun’s medicine was very effective, not only stopping the bleeding but also containing a mild anesthetic powder. Little Seven only groaned a few times before falling into a deep sleep.

Little Eight, who had been bedridden, was now awake and barely able to get out of bed. The child had been frightened during the previous incident and hadn’t spoken since waking up. She just stared blankly at Chu Qiao as she busied herself boiling water and taking care of Little Seven, like a simpleton.

As evening approached, Chu Qiao wiped the sweat from her forehead. The wound on her shoulder burned with pain. She leaned against the wall, listening to Little Seven’s faint cries of pain in her sleep. Her heart felt as if someone had gripped it tightly, then resolutely pulled it out and thrown it into an icy wasteland. The girl closed her eyes, and Lin Xi’s face once again appeared in her mind—that boy with handsome features and a pure smile, the boy who had repeatedly promised to protect her, the boy who had been beaten until his face was unrecognizable, nothing but a bloody pulp.

A clear tear slowly flowed from her tightly closed eyes, running down her pointed chin and dripping onto her coarse cloth shoes.

Suddenly, a panicked voice sounded outside the door. Chu Qiao started, opened the door, and walked out to see a twelve or thirteen-year-old girl standing in the courtyard. Upon seeing Chu Qiao, she ran over as if she’d found a lifeline, crying, “Yue’er, Zhi Xiang, and the children from your Jing family have all been taken away by Steward Zhu’s men.”

Chu Qiao frowned upon hearing this and asked sternly, “Taken away? When did this happen?”

“They left early this morning. I could only find Lin Xi and told him to go to the Fourth Young Master to plead for help, but a whole day passed without any news. What should we do?”

“Did they say what for?”

The girl wiped her tears and cried, “They said, they said they were being sent to the Old Master’s villa in the outer residence.”

“What?” Chu Qiao exclaimed in shock. The girl’s words struck like lightning. The rumors she had heard from Lin Xi these past days about the Old Master’s bestial appetites whirled through her mind like a tornado, and her face instantly turned pale.

Little Eight stood at the doorway and, hearing this, dazedly walked forward, tugging at Chu Qiao’s clothes. Her voice was small, like an injured animal, asking over and over, “Sister Yue’er, where are Sister Zhi Xiang and the others? Where did they go?”

Chu Qiao immediately came to her senses and turned to sprint toward the door.

“Yue’er!” the girl called out behind her, but Chu Qiao didn’t look back. A sense of foreboding rapidly filled her heart. She didn’t know if she would be in time, didn’t know if there was still a chance to save those children. She could only run forward as fast as possible, not daring to stop for even a moment.

Past Qingshan Court, the stables, the back garden, and further ahead was the winding corridor that led to the front courtyards. Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps arose, and Chu Qiao cautiously stopped in her tracks.

“Sister Yue’er?” a small voice sounded behind her. Chu Qiao turned around in surprise to see Little Eight standing behind her wearing an oversized short tunic, looking pitiful without even shoes on, asking blankly, “Where did Sister Zhi Xiang and the others go?”

Chu Qiao grabbed Little Eight and quickly crouched in a nearby flower bed. It was winter, and all the flowers had withered. Fortunately, it was nighttime, and this area was dimly lit, making them difficult to spot unless someone looked carefully.

The footsteps grew closer. Four people were pushing a cart together—one pushing while three others steadied it from the sides. The path Chu Qiao had taken was already quite secluded, rarely used by anyone except cleaning servants. She crouched with Little Eight in the flower bed, silently waiting for these people to leave.

The men suddenly stopped right in front of Chu Qiao and Little Eight. Little Eight was very frightened, her body trembling as she clutched tightly to Chu Qiao’s clothes, not daring to move. One of the men said gruffly, “Let’s take a break, brothers. We’ve walked such a long way without stopping. At least let me smoke a cigarette.”

The others laughed, “Old Liu’s got the craving.” They chuckled as they lit up and smoked.

Chu Qiao grew anxious, her brows tightly furrowed. The cold wind blew, and Little Eight, dressed in thin clothes, trembled even more violently. Suddenly, the north wind gusted strongly, whooshing as it flipped over the straw mat on the cart. The mat spun in the air several times before landing on the ground with a plop. The yellow straw mat was stained dark red, completely covered in dark red blood.

Chu Qiao and Little Eight looked toward the cart and were instantly thunderstruck. Chu Qiao quickly reached out and covered Little Eight’s mouth tightly!

The moon broke through the clouds, casting its ghastly light down. On the small cart, the small bodies of children were piled up like lifeless cabbages and radishes. Zhi Xiang’s thin, small corpse was exposed, covered in blue and purple bruises. Her eyes were wide open, with black blood clotting at the corners. Her lower body was in disarray. Her hands and feet were still bound with hemp rope, her posture grotesque, placed on top in the most humiliating position.

Chu Qiao held Little Eight’s mouth tightly, her other arm wrapped around her firmly. The child seemed to have gone mad, desperately trying to push her away and rush out. Large, scalding tears fell and hit Chu Qiao’s arm. The child’s teeth bit down mercilessly, drawing blood that flowed along Chu Qiao’s white wrist and dripped onto the black soil. Moonlight filtered through the sparse flower trees, casting mottled shadows on the two of them, as desolate as frost.

After what seemed like an eternity, the cart gradually moved away, leaving complete silence all around. Chu Qiao slowly released her hand; the skin on her wrist was torn, looking horrific. Little Eight seemed to have become a simpleton, staring blankly, unable to speak. Chu Qiao reached out and patted the child’s face, her voice hoarse, calling the child’s name carefully and softly like a ghost’s wail.

The cold wind blew mournfully, the withered trees swayed, and in the silent night, the sounds of music and festivity from the front courtyard’s main residence seemed to come from another world.

“Kill them…”

The six-year-old child suddenly spoke with unfocused eyes, “Must go, go, kill them.”

Chu Qiao was startled and immediately stopped her hand.

The child’s eyes were bloodshot as she looked around, seemingly searching for something. Suddenly, she grabbed a stone from the flower bed, stood up, and was about to rush out. Chu Qiao, quick as lightning, grabbed the child and held her tightly in her arms.

“Kill them! Kill them!” The child finally couldn’t hold back and began to scream, her small face filled with frenzied hatred and despair, tears streaming down, nearly breaking down completely.

Chu Qiao’s heart ached like a knife had stabbed it. She held the frantic child tightly, her tears finally pouring down uncontrollably.

These beasts, these monsters, these scum who wouldn’t be cleansed of their sins even if they died ten thousand times.

Never had she hated as she did at this moment. Never had she wanted to kill as she did now. A tidal wave of hatred seemed to engulf her entire being. She hated those people’s cruelty, hated this evil world, and even more, she hated her weakness, her helplessness hated that she could only watch but do nothing. The child’s near-hysterical crying in her arms was like a knife, cutting into her heart and lungs with each sob. If she had an assault rifle in her hands right now, she would unhesitatingly rush into the front courtyard’s main residence and kill all those scum.

But alas, she had nothing. No money, no power, no background, no good fighting skills, no fine weapons. She was just a spirit from another world trapped in Jing Yue’er’s small body. Despite having knowledge and intellect thousands of years advanced, at this moment, she could only crouch in the flower bed, hiding carefully, not even able to summon the courage to see them one last time.

Chu Qiao slowly raised her head. The cold moonlight shone on her face as she silently vowed to herself: only this once; she would never allow a second time. She would never again live so helplessly, never again exist without the ability to protect herself, never again!

The cold moon shone like water. In the vast Zhuge mansion, two weak, lowly slaves crouched in the flowerbeds of the back garden like two frightened dogs, huddled closely together, their hearts churning with hatred capable of destroying heaven and earth.

By the time they returned to the servants’ quarters, it was already deep into the night. Before even entering the courtyard, they discovered that the door was wide open. Chu Qiao’s heart instantly sank. She let go of Little Eight’s hand and hurried inside to find the room in disarray. The bedding on the kang bed was soaked with blood, and there were many adult footprints on the floor, but no sign of Little Seven.

“Yue’er, you’re back!”

The girl from earlier suddenly emerged from behind a pile of firewood in the corner. Chu Qiao rushed forward, grabbed her, and asked sternly, “Where’s Little Seven? Where did Little Seven go?”

The girl cried, “Steward Zhu brought people and said that since Little Seven’s arm was broken, she couldn’t work anymore. They carried Little Seven away, saying they were going to throw her into Ting Lake to feed the crocodiles.”

Chu Qiao nearly fainted, her vision darkening. Her heart could barely function for a moment. She gripped the girl’s collar tightly and asked word by word in a hoarse voice, “How long ago? How long ago did they leave?”

“It’s been about two hours already, Yue’er. There’s no saving her.”

Chu Qiao turned around to look at Little Eight standing at the doorway. The child’s eyes were bloodshot as she raised her head to look back at Chu Qiao. As soon as their eyes met, tears flowed down, but neither of them cried out loud.

“Yue’er, I have to go back. You two be careful too. I heard people from the laundry house say that Steward Zhu is deliberately targeting you all. Did you do something to offend him?”

The room gradually quieted down. In the courtyard, there was a large patch of ghastly white ground. The two children stood silently, not speaking for a long time.

Just after the third watch bell had rung, the last two children of the Jing family quietly passed through the stone forest and arrived at Ting Lake, which was located behind the Zhuge family residence. The cold wind was desolate, the bamboo grove swayed, and Ting Lake was a scene of death, its waters unruffled, appearing no different from countless other days and nights.

Chu Qiao knelt on a high mound and said to Little Eight beside her, “Little Eight, kneel and bow to our brothers and sisters.”

Little Eight, not yet seven years old, had experienced a great tragedy that night. Her small face had already lost the innocence that children should have. She knelt quietly beside Chu Qiao, bowed deeply toward Ting Lake, and kowtowed three times heavily.

“Little Eight, do you hate this place?”

The child nodded silently without a word. Chu Qiao continued in a calm voice, “Then do you want to leave?”

The child said solemnly, “Yes.”

Chu Qiao gazed ahead, her voice flat and unwavering, showing no emotion. She narrowed her eyes slightly, her brows gently furrowed, and said slowly, “Sister promises you, Sister will take you away soon. But before that, we still have some things to do. Once everything is settled, we will leave this place.”

The child nodded silently, kowtowed to the ground, and said solemnly, word by word, “Sister Zhi Xiang, you were always praying to gods and Buddhas for protection, not knowing that heaven has long since gone blind. Go slowly with our brothers and sisters, and wait and see, wait and see how Little Eight and Sister Yue’er avenge you all.”

The bitter wind raged, the night was pitch black, and on the high mound of the stone forest, two small figures leaned against each other, holding hands tightly.